


His Best Source of Comfort

by bpd_changeling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hinny, I love this ship okay, both emotional and physical, i don't understand people who say its weak, i mean they're literally soul mates, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpd_changeling/pseuds/bpd_changeling
Summary: Harry had always been a horrible Occlumens... but he'd never, like, /projected/ his thoughts- not before Ginny.





	His Best Source of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is really angsty but also fluffy and sweet, so I hope you like it

     Harry had always been a horrible Occlumens; that much he knew. A third year probably could have gotten into his mind if they'd tried hard enough. But he'd never, like, _projected_ his thoughts- not before Ginny.

     It started happening about a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, shortly after they'd gotten an apartment together. It had been late at night, and Harry had woken up, sweat-drenched and gasping, from a nightmare. Not the kind he'd had a lot right after the war, but rather the kind he'd had his whole life, the ones about Privet Drive. In this one, he'd been back in his cupboard, arms and legs bound with rope. There were spiders- hundreds of them- crawling all over him, and Aunt Petunia was banging on the door, demanding that he get up and clean the kitchen. He opened his mouth to say that he couldn't get up because of the ropes, but spiders crawled into his mouth, making him gag and choke. He thought he would suffocate. He thought he would die feeling the burn of his wrists and the shudder-inducing feeling of thousands of thin, spindly legs on his bare skin... and then he jolted awake.

     He let out a whimper, unable to hold back the noise, and felt desperately across the bed for his girlfriend's hand. It was soft and warm and, despite the late hour, it immediately tightened around his own. Ginny's head turned toward him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she mumbled sleepily. Harry felt bad for waking her, especially as it wasn't the first time.

"Nothing, nothing. I was being silly. Go back to sleep, love." Ginny, unfortunately, hated being told what to do. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked intently into his eyes.

"Harry James Potter, you tell me what's wrong right now," she ordered. A weak smile touched Harry's lips at the words. He sighed.

 

"It was just a bad dream. It was... I was thinking about when I was little, I guess. Life at Number 4 Privet Drive and all that. I'm not, you know, trying to act like some victim. I just... I wish someone could have told me why it had to be that way."

     Harry could see the way Ginny's heart broke for him in her eyes. Normally, he hated pity, but this was different. She cared because she cared about him, not because she wanted to treat him like some poor, lost puppy.

"What way, Harry? You never tell me. What happened to you in that place?" He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have-"

"Yes you should!" Her eyes were blazing now, still locked onto his. "You always want to talk like you suffered less than you did! You never want to complain, never want to cause problems- well, too fucking bad! I love you, damn it, and I don't think you're some golden idol _or_ some attention-seeking whiner. You're Harry, my Harry, and you've been through hell, and you're still going through it, and you need to let me in."

     He wanted to. God, he wanted to, but the words just wouldn't form. He tried and tried to speak his thoughts, his memories, but nothing happened. And then it did.

     It was such a strange feeling, like a tether stretched out, connecting them. Then scenes started to flick by. He saw himself sitting alone in his locked cupboard, reading a battered book, stomach gnawing with hunger that would not be satiated, not for another twenty-four hours. He saw himself mopping the kitchen floor after Dudley had eaten too much ice cream and candy and vomited all over the previously pristine tiles. He saw Ripper chasing him, snapping at his ankles as he scramble up the tree and out of harm's way. He saw Dudley sinking his fist into Harry's gut again and again while Piers Polkiss held his arms behind his back. He saw things he'd forgotten- When he was nine, he'd asked why he never got any birthday presents, and Petunia had screamed for half an hour about how ungrateful he was. When he was six, he had tried to hug Uncle Vernon and been shoved hard to the floor, smacking his head on the ground. When he was four, he'd called Aunt Petunia 'mummy' and she'd fixed him with a look of utter disgust and spat, "Your mother was a disgusting, horrible freak," before locking herself in her own room and refusing to come out the rest of the day. Vernon had hollered at Harry for upsetting his aunt and only yelled louder when the messy-haired child started to cry.

     It ended as fast as it had started. Harry was plunged back into darkness, the warm bed and familiar, tight grip on his hand. He looked at Ginny and saw that she was crying. Touching his own damp cheek, he realized he was crying too. Neither of them seemed to know what to say, so they didn't say anything. Ginny just snuggled up closer to Harry, pressing her body gently against his and clinging to his shoulder. The effect was immediate. He felt his heart rate slow and his choppy breaths become more even. The tension seeped out of his muscles as he hugged her back, leaning their foreheads together and breathing in sync.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he answered.

"I'll never, ever leave."

"I know." And he did. She was Ginny, his best source of comfort. And he couldn't be scared of the past when the present was so warm, so sweet, so close. Whatever Dumbledore had said, Privet Drive was never Harry's home. Ginny was his home- the only one he'd ever need.


End file.
